


Spoon Wielding Monsters

by maecrawford



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, One-Sided Lydia Martin/Allison Argent, RIP Allison Argent, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maecrawford/pseuds/maecrawford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>bisexuallydia said:</b><br/><i>malydia + "I'm sorry for drunkenly throwing a spoon at you and then laughing at your pain."</i><br/> <br/>She felt fangs and claws come loose, her eyes flash blue. Malia stormed into the room getting ready to protect Lydia from the spoon wielding monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoon Wielding Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [presumablynot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/presumablynot/gifts).



> The Major Character Death label is there because it deals with Ally A pain that Lydia is coping with, in her own way.
> 
> This fic takes place a couple of years after Allison dies, which Lydia copes with in a certain way until she gets help from a certain werecoyote.

Scott did tell her not to bring it up, the scent that surrounded Lydia and everyone else in the pack around this time of year.

They didn't tell her why they all smelled like sadness and anxiety, why Stiles shut himself in his room away from his friends, allowing only his father to enter his room.

They didn't have to.

She knew that scent, she smelled it on her adoptive father each moment that she spent with him, it's a somber smell, a mourning scent. She also knew the story, she knew what day that was, what anniversary they were all observing, year after year after year.

They made slow progress, the scent of each member of the pack evolved. Scott smelled less sour around this time of year, Stiles spent less time locked away and more time with his friends. Kira spent time with Scott and Isaac trying her best to make them both smile.

Lydia, on the other hand, just began to smell more and more sour, and no one seemed to notice.

Malia didn’t like it, that everyone seemed more introverted around this time. That Stiles didn’t crack as many jokes, Derek didn’t roll his eyes fondly at Stiles. Kira didn’t grin each time Scott smiled goofily at her.  


Worse of all, Lydia’s scent just seemed to get progressively more and more sad each year.  


Malia didn’t like it. At least thats the reason that Malia kept using as she found herself standing on the porch of the Martin estate.

She didn’t like that Lydia didn’t smell like Lydia anymore. So she made a spur of the moment decision and decided to visit Lydia, right on the anniversary of Allison’s death.

Malia let herself into the house, moving silently through the kitchen, up the stairs to Lydia’s room. There was light seeping into the hallway from under Lydia’s door, good, Malia thought, she’s awake.

Malia didn’t bother to knock on the door, she just opened the door and popped her head into the room, she opened her mouth to announce her presence-

**WHOOSH!**

With a smack a wooden spoon hit her right on her nose, yelping and instinctively cradling her face in her hands. Malia prepared for an attack. 

She felt fangs and claws come loose, her eyes flash blue. Malia stormed into the room getting ready to protect Lydia from the spoon wielding monster.

Only to find Lydia sitting cross legged in the middle of her bed holding a glass filled to the brim with a liquid. Malia observed a punch bowl precariously balanced on a stool next to Lydia's bed.  


Malia also noted that Lydia looked like shit. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head, it looked unwashed and lanky, her make-up was smeared on her face. Once perfectly applied pink lipstick, smeared at the corners of Lydia’s mouth which was twisted in a grimace.

A peal of giggles escaped Lydia’s mouth, quickly turning into manic laughter.  


Malia stood in the doorway of Lydia’s room grumpily rubbing the tip of her nose with the heel of her palm. What was that on the spoon anyways?  


“What are you doing here?” Lydia slurred at Malia as she untangled herself from her sitting position and stumbled over to Malia.

“I came to check on you, you’ve been smelling bad lately,” Malia replied bluntly.

Lydia paused, her eyebrows hooking together, lips pursed.

“I shower regularly, I have you know,” she poked Malia’s shoulder with the hand holding her glass, causing the liquid to slosh onto Malia’s t-shirt and the cream carpet of Lydia’s room.  


Lydia swore at the spilled liquid, then shrugged and wobbled over to the punch bowl topping up her glass, once again filling it to the brim, she turned and narrowed her eyes at Malia.

“You made me spill my drink.”

Malia shrugged, not really knowing what the situation called for socially. She knew that she probably should take the alcohol away from Lydia, it was infused with wolfsbane. 

Knowing Lydia though, she wouldn’t give the glass away without a fight.

Malia sauntered over asking: “why’s there wolfsbane in the alcohol?”

“Seeing as I’m a banshee _normal_ alcohol doesn’t seem to work anymore,” Lydia said clamouring back onto the bed obviously drunk.

Malia wrinkled her nose at the bowl and the glass that Lydia clutched, causing Lydia to raise her eyebrows at the expression.

“Don’t knock it till you try it Mal-Mal.”

“My name is Malia.”

“So it is.”

Malia gave an exasperated sigh, she leaned forward licking her lips, watching as Lydia’s eyes dipped to watch the minute movement.

“I know what you’re up to, Mal.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“You’re going to take away my alcohol.”

Malia paused, she didn’t realise that her goal was that obvious to Lydia. Changing her plan she gracefully kicked off her shoes and climbed into Lydia’s bed and propped herself up by the headboard.

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh? Then why are you here Malia?” Lydia frowned.

“I told you, you smell funny.”

“My scent is no laughing matter.”

“I mean you smell sad, kinda anxious, mostly you just smell like alcohol now.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows, sipping on her drink before putting it on her bedside table: “touchè.”

“Why are you sad? It’s more than just her death.”

“Don’t talk about her, you didn’t even know her!” Lydia’s cheeks coloured, whether with anger or due to her drunkenness, it was unclear.

“I know enough, she was your best friend, you loved her,” Malia tilted her head. She placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder, “I know she was kind, that she was loyal and smart. That she loved her friends with all her heart, that she kept you safe.”

Lydia bit her lip as tears began to fall down her cheeks. Malia shifted onto her knees in front of Lydia, wiping the tears with her thumbs.

“She was so much more than that to me,” Lydia placed her small hands on top of Malia’s seeking comfort from the werecoyote. 

She then pulled away shaking her head, whispering to herself: “I can’t, you won’t see me the same way again.”

Malia settled her hands on Lydia’s hips pulling her into her lap and wrapping her arms around her waist, hugging her tightly rocking them back and forth.

“I’m a werecoyote who murdered her own family, I won’t judge.”

Lydia barked out a laugh and in turn snuggled into Malia’s shoulder.

“I was in love with her, such a cliche, in love with my straight best friend who only had eyes for McCall. She knew, and she was kind about it. Never made it strange between us, made sure that our relationship was never strained because of my, _feelings_ ,” Lydia hiccuped, her body shaking with sobs she wasn’t letting out.

“I got you,” Malia whispered smoothing one hand up and down Lydia’s back and as if she was waiting for permission Lydia dissolved into sobs her hands bunched in Malia’s alcohol stained t-shirt.

They sat together for a while and once Lydia’s eyes became itchy and her tears didn’t come as easily, Malia gently eased Lydia down onto her pillows, pulling the covers over her shoulders.

As she turned to find her shoes, she heard the girl in the bed shift around to face her.

“Stay.”

Malia nodded, dropping her shoes and slipping into bed with Lydia. She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl cuddling her close.

“It’s going to be okay,” Malia whispered as she watched Lydia’s eyelids droop.

“That's because you’re here.”

Malia fell asleep with a smile on her face and Lydia in her arms. Only to be rudely awaken by a hung-over banshee bossing her around the next day. 

Although Malia wouldn’t have it any other way.

Especially when the reward for toast and painkillers is a kiss and a whispered thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from the wonderful bisexuallydia from tumblr, who was probably expecting a silly, fluffy comic fic, and instead this happened, I'm not sure if I'm sorry or not.


End file.
